


You Within My Reach

by mssrj_335, TheCarrot



Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [13]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: First Time, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Neck Kissing, Nonverbal Communication, Post-Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: The morning after their first time.
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller
Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683301
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	You Within My Reach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copper_head](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copper_head/gifts).



> I asked Copper_head for a prompt the other day, and this came to fruition! Mostly with Mssrj's help!
> 
> Also fulfills a kiss prompt: following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck !! :D

Will gets the feeling he’s being watched before he’s even truly awake. And where that would normally make him bolt straight up, reach for the knife on his bedside table. 

He doesn’t. Will knows those eyes. Has felt that gaze on him so many times before that it doesn’t make defences stir anymore. Will just soaks in it, allows himself to draw up slowly to the world of the living.

To pull himself from steady, dreamless sleep that he hasn’t been privy to in years. 

His back pops as Will stretches and he’s helpless to do more than savour the ache there. Grins against the burn in his muscles. The flex of his thighs, well stretched and sticky. Sated. Pleasure sparking along in his veins as that gaze follows every twist of movement he makes. 

“Sex is all it takes then?” Will croaks out finally. Voice worn and rough. No longer loud enough to bounce off the walls of his room. “To get you to stay in bed past dawn?”

A muffled laugh is his only reply, but it’s enough to make Will finally crack open his eyes. The room comes into view slowly, sky still tepid grey outside his window. Yet what truly draws Ironhead’s attention is the figure laying beside him.

Santiago, perfectly ruffled in all his glory; looking sleep mused but rested where he’s sprawled out on his stomach against Will’s hip. He’s laying with his arms crossed in front of him, resting his chin on the bend of his elbow instead of the pillow. It’s at just the perfect height to watch Ironhead pull himself from sleep. So Pope can stare at Will to his hearts content without straining his neck. But it’s the way those deadly brown eyes are closed off and guarded that surprises the blonde. 

“It’s not even six yet.” Pope mutters teasingly a little of the look falling away at Ironhead’s own tone. 

Will grins reassuringly. Shoves one of his own arms under his pillow and admires the faint red marks he can see just beyond the cusp of Pope’s shoulders. Knows if he were to put his fingers against them they’d line up perfectly. “That’s late for you.”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d want me to stay.” 

Every line of Will freezes and blue eyes slowly rove over furrowed brow and stubbled cheeks. Until finally he lifts a hand to trace over the familiar lines pulling around Santiago’s eyes. Does his best to brush away the walls Santiago is attempting to build back up after last night. When both of their defences fell like toppled kingdoms. Ironhead cups the side of Pope’s face in his palm. Lets his thumb brush along the curve of his ear and even dares to do what he did in yesterday’s dark. Buries quick fingers into the short curls of Santiago’s hair where it’s started to go long. Uses his hold to drag Pope’s eyes back to his own. 

Yet Ironhead doesn’t say anything. 

Can’t. 

Wouldn’t know what the proper words would be even if he could get them past the lump in his throat. Instead Will just tugs on a curl that’s gone completely wayward, unaided by the fact that he couldn’t stop running his fingers through them last night. Had used that grip to pull Santiago’s head back and bite his way down his bared neck. Holding him in place, begging Santiago to stay in a way that’s always been just for them. 

Wordlessly.

A simple glance that has made speech unnecessary.

‘Don’t leave.’ Will’s eyes asked last night. And now they repeat it. Stare down into warm brown eyes that lighten slowly with the dawn filtering in through the window. Will traces the curve of Santiago’s cheek again. Helpless to not lose himself in the notion that he could find all the answers of the earth in those dark eyes that have watched him so closely through the years.

And then, just like last night. _Santiago stays_. Had let Will curl a hand around the side of his neck. Had felt every drag of fingertip and nail along the scar along the top of his spine and Santiago had given in just like that. Finally. All those years of telling himself no. Gone in an instant.

In a touch.

“Well, we sure took our sweet time getting here.” Santiago muses, dropping his head into Will’s waiting palm. Let’s the blond cradle his cheek for a moment.

Will can only nod. That they did. He sighs gently. “That’s the way it was. I was afraid, and then you were gone.”

Brown eyes darken for a moment; some unknown thing passing through them at a speed that Ironhead can’t catch. When it stops though, Pope just looks sad. Will suddenly wants to say something, anything to ease that look. Yet nothing springs to tongue nor mind. Nothing he can put out into the universe to get back all the time they lost playing chicken with one another.

In the end, Will knows that the time they lost isn’t the focus. It’s come and gone, no use thinking about it now. He has Santiago by his side from here on out, and Santiago owns Will in much the same way. Should he know by now what Pope is looking for? Yes. And he does. Pope isn’t looking for him to say the right thing. He doesn’t have to. As long as he’s there within reach, the answer’s always clear.

So Ironhead holds his arms out. An open invitation. 

Santiago props himself up on his elbows, blue eyes watching the shift of muscle and tan skin as he does so. Will hoping and waiting with bated breath as the other man moves; until at last Pope is hovering over him. One hand braced on either side of Will’s on the pillow and the drag of bare skin against bare skin is enough to send shivers down Wills spine. Awaken long forgotten fantasies that had only started to come to fruition last night. 

_Heated gasps. Slick heat. The barest of movements that felt like they were splitting Will to the core every time Santiago moved against him._

Santiago fits against him so perfectly; bends and curves, dips and scars and all. Raw jagged pieces finding a home in Wills own tattered seams. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

Ironhead brings his arms back around to circle Santiago’s waist, pushes the bed sheet down and away until all he can feel is heat beneath his fingers. Curls them into the soft give of skin as he lifts his head to meet Pope in a series of kisses that take Will’s breath away. Tongues eager, probing and Santiago makes a low noise in the back of his throat when Will bites down on his bottom lip by accident. Makes the same sound when he does it again on purpose. Ironhead grins. 

“You’re here now.” Will whispers. Copper fire gaze roving over the flush he’s brought up to Santiago’s cheeks with a wicked grin. Tangles their legs together and it’s nothing then to tilt them sideways. 

He marvels all over again when Pope lets him. Will cranes his neck, drags his beard against the soft skin of Santiago’s shoulder, licks his lips at the harsh exhale it elicits from him. Bites his way up Santiago’s neck. Darkens the marks he was too hesitant to bring to the surface last night. Sucks a bruise just beneath the shadowed hinge of jaw and Will practically feels Pope’s pulse jump beneath his lips.

“W-Will.” Pope grits his teeth, arches into the other mans grasp as Will slowly works his hand back into the mess of curls at the base of his skull. Moans into Ironheads mouth when the blond tries to kiss away his protests before they can find the air needed to be uttered. 

Santiago huffs into the slick press of lips. Sinks into it just like last night, when they finally set aside everything holding them back and waded into this mess of emotions together. He decides then. That if Will wants to drown himself in this than Santiago will be right there with him.

A simple touch away.

For the rest of their lives.


End file.
